


Christmas Village Grinch

by LadyDrace



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Romance, Awkwardness, Birthday, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Entrepreneur Stiles, First Meetings, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, POV Derek Hale, Writer Derek Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 06:09:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8960647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyDrace/pseuds/LadyDrace
Summary: There's an annual Christmas Village in Beacon Hills, and Derek is basically the Grinch. But one year a new face in the village makes Derek's heart feel several sizes larger.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PrettyInSoulPunk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrettyInSoulPunk/gifts).



> This was written for my dear [Angie](http://prettyinsoulpunk.tumblr.com/). YOU DESERVE THIS!
> 
> Unbetaed but decently edited.

 

It's the first of December, and the annual Christmas Village of Beacon Hills is officially open. It's a place of mechanical scenery and endless screeching of tinny Christmas music, fair rides and sticky seasonal foods.

 

Derek usually doesn't care that much, his grudge against Christmas as a whole for having the audacity of being right on top of his birthday being something he's never quite been able to shake off, despite the best efforts of his family to celebrate him in the middle of all the holiday chaos. But he's somehow always talked into taking all of his younger siblings to see the village on the first day, and he's suspected for years that his parents only do it to get them all out of the house so they can have sex in peace. Laura has always been sneakier than Derek, and by some magical means made sure to have unbreakable plans on December first for the rest of forever. So here Derek is, every single damn year, dragging a reluctant – yet secretly excited – Cora and three additional siblings around the nightmare of automated Christmas elves and awful carols, fake snow and mountains of sugary crap.

 

Every year he vows to himself to have plans the next year, but he always forgets. And even if he did make plans with one of this three friends, they'd all totally fold when faced with the well-meaning demands of Talia Hale. Derek does too, so he can't blame them.

 

The only good news is that this year their mother deemed Cora old enough to take on some of the responsibility, so her job this year is to keep an eye on Molly while Derek tries to keep track of the twins. _Tries_ being the operative word, because at six years of age they're just smart enough to occasionally outwit adults, but not old enough to avoid trouble. So Derek has his hands full. He gazes longingly at Molly waddling around on her chubby toddler legs, pointing at things and making even Cora smile, despite the fact that she's been firmly in an emo phase for so long it doesn't even really qualify as a phase anymore.

 

Meanwhile, Robbie and Jeremy are busy taking turns punching one of the dudes wandering around dressed as snowmen right in his poofy bottom sphere, but at least the guy is playing along, so for now it seems like they're not about to be tossed out.

 

”Guys, come _on_ , can't you just relax a _little_ bit?” Derek begs as he rushes up to them and pulls them away from the snowman guy, who just waves and waddles on.

 

”Jerry did it first!”

 

”I told you not to call me that!”

 

Derek plants himself between them, firm grip of each of their hands, to make sure the punching doesn't start again with either of them as victims. ”Jeez, _cool it_ ,” he snaps, and they settle down with matching pouty faces. ”Now, I need you to decide on one thing at a time, cause this running around thing isn't working.”

 

”I wanna see the toy factory!” Jeremy shrieks, and Robbie immediately sticks his tongue out at him.

 

”That's for babies, Jerry! I wanna try Santa's Sleigh!”

 

”Nuh uh, you're just gonna puke-”

 

”No I'm not!”

 

”Are too!”

 

”AM NOT!”

 

”Quit it!” Derek snaps, and counts to ten in his head. ”We can take a trip on the ferris wheel, and then go see the toy factory after.”

 

”The ferris wheel is lame,” Robbie grumbles, but follows along without protest when Derek starts pulling them along. He really shouldn't have let them have any candy so early. He catches Cora's eye, and nods towards the ferris wheel. She nods back, and waves at them with Molly's sticky hand, getting it thoroughly stuck in her hair. Serves her right for not being on twin duty.

 

It's a new ferris wheel, which is comforting, since they'd had the previous one for as long as Derek can remember. It was a rust bucket even in his earliest memories, and it seems the endless complaints from visitors about tetanus and various other safety concerns finally hit home. In fact, it's an entirely new company providing the rides this year, and instead of the grouchy old dude who'd looked like he hated everything about as much as Derek did, providing at least a modicum of kinship in a hell of holiday cheer, there's now a tall, slender guy with tousled hair and an upturned nose, welcoming everyone with a delighted grin.

 

Derek can't help but look at the guy as he steps into the line, still keeping a firm hold of both of his little trouble makers while they wait for their turn to come. As the boys keep arguing, Derek keeps looking, taking in the beauty marks dotting the attendant's pale cheek, the dusting of early stubble, the long neck and strong hands, and the beautiful brown eyes that damn near take Derek's breath away as they sweep down the line.

 

The guy is gorgeous, and by the time they're getting closer, Derek is full on staring, and has to look away in embarrassment as the guy catches him at it and sends him a wink. Crap, Derek really wishes he was the kind of guy to easily flirt with people, but he's not. He's very much not. Dammit.

 

Having been so busy staring, they're three cars away from it being their turn when Derek realizes that only two people are allowed in each car, and that Robbie is already hopefully staring towards the frankly terrifying ride on their left, the innocuously named Santa's Sleigh, which Derek is pretty sure he knows as _The Kamikaze_ in less Christmas-y settings, and which has _vomit_ written all over it. So, no. Very, _very_ much no.

 

“Guys,” he says, bending down to get their attention. “There are only two people a car, and you are both going in it, no argument.” He gives Robbie the stink eye, and breathes a silent sigh of relief when there's no whining. “So can you both promise me to not kill each other for five short minutes?”

 

“Only if I get to go on Santa's Sleigh after,” Robbie insists, and Derek sends a silent prayer for strength to whoever is listening.

 

“Rob, there's no way I'm gonna let you. And you know that.”

 

“But, Derek!”

 

“No, it's too rough and I know you feel like you can handle anything, but we all know your stomach isn't nearly as cool as you are.”

 

“IT IS TOO!” Robbie yells, and Derek winces.

 

“Hey, hey, what's the ruckus in the line?!”

 

Derek looks up to find Gorgeous Guy calling out to them with one eyebrow raised and a smirk on his face, and Derek wants to _sit on it_. God, he's pathetic.

 

The line moves another few steps, putting them only a few yards away from the guy, and he leans over the barrier around the ferris wheel to send Robbie an exaggerated stink eye. “I didn't just hear a _baby_ cry, did I?”

 

“Nuh uh!” Robbie denies, and puffs out his chest. “I'm six! And I can totally handle Santa's Sleigh!”

 

“Oh, man,” the guy says with a wince. “You're braver than I am. But there's a problem. If you go on that ride, we're gonna have to deal with the long arm of the law.”

 

“Huh?”

 

The guy holds out his hand at roughly chest height. “You have to be this tall to ride. And I'm sorry, kiddo, but you've got like two heads to go for that.”

 

“Really? Even if I stand on my toes?” Robbie suggests, stretching himself up an inch, and making Derek grin. “I can be taller!”

 

“That's cheating, though, and if you cheat the law you end up in the slammer. Trust me, my dad is a sheriff, the law doesn't fool around,” the guy says with a serious nod.

 

“Aww.” Robbie pouts, and as much as they argue, anytime one of them is sad, the other one will step up, and Jeremy doesn't hesitate to take Robbie's hand when the guy shows them to their car.

 

“Hey, maybe we can see the park from the top! Or our house!” Jeremy says, and Robbie looks a little less glum by the time the car is closed and secure.

 

“You taking a car on your own?” the guy asks, and Derek shakes his head.

 

“No, thanks. Is it okay if I just hang out here while they spin?”

 

“Sure thing.”

 

Derek watches as the last three cars are filled, and the wheel is put into motion. Then he watches the guy, marveling at how incredibly beautiful he is, right up until the moment he's caught out, and jerks his gaze away.

 

“Cute kids. They yours?”

 

He cautiously looks back at the guy, leaning towards Derek from the control console behind the barrier with an open and friendly smile. It's _radiant_ , and Derek has to swallow before he can even speak. “Uh. Yeah. Sort of. My brothers.” He hates himself a lot for how badly be fucks up something this simple, but the guy doesn't seem to mind.

 

“Aww, that's nice of you to take the little rugrats out for a day.”

 

“Peer pressure, mostly,” Derek admits, wishing he could sell himself a little better on his good deeds. “This Christmas stuff isn't really me.”

 

“Too bad. I love all the holidays. Any chance to party and eat way too much food, and I'm in,” the guy says, beaming at Derek, like the fact that he's basically The Grinch doesn't hurt his chances at all.

 

“Thanks for the help with Robbie, by the way.”

 

“Oh, dude,” the guy says, his eyes widening, “that was sheer self-preservation. The less puke on my babies, the better.”

 

“Come again?”

 

The guy leans further out, and makes a sweeping gesture at the logo on the partition. “Stilinski Funfairs! Provider of all your fairground needs!”

 

“You're Stilinski?!” Derek blurts with surprise, because the guy can't be more than twenty.

 

“Stiles Stilinski, in the flesh,” Stiles says, thrusting out a hand for Derek to shake.

 

“Derek Hale,” he says on automatic, and Stiles grants him a smile so huge and joyful it makes butterflies go nuts in Derek's stomach.

 

“Nice to meet ya, Derek. And yeah, these are all my babies. I wanted to join the circus as a kid, but I have zero balance and coordination, and I also don't like to be too far from my dad, so. Had to give that up. Turns out I'm good with engineering. That one over there is my own design,” he says proudly, pointing at something that looks vaguely like a vertically spinning rocket ship. “Patented and everything.”

 

“Wow, that's amazing.”

 

Stiles beams, and reaches out to twiddle the knob to make the ferris wheel spin the other way. Half way through the trip, then. Derek is abruptly reminded that soon he'll have more big brother duties, and he already doesn't want to leave.

 

“Thanks. I was actually planning on going to college, but this kept making me money, and I got really into it, and... well. College isn't going anywhere, right?”

 

“Yeah, no, definitely,” Derek fumbles, trying so hard to make a good impression and obviously failing.

 

“What do you do?”

 

“I, uh. I'm a writer. Kind of,” he adds with a wince, because there's really no cool way of saying that he's living at home with his parents at twenty-two and still hasn't finished a book.

 

“That's awesome! What do you write?”

  
“Historical fiction, mostly,” Derek mutters, half hoping they could just change the subject already, but Stiles looks eager and interested, and Derek has no fucking spine. “I haven't published anything yet, though.”

 

“Well, I'm sure it'll be a smash hit when you do,” Stiles says, and keeps smiling at Derek in that joyful way that just makes Derek's mind dissolve into white noise.

 

He doesn't even register if they talk more before suddenly the cars are being emptied and two little energy bombs are darting towards Derek.

 

“We saw the house, Derek!” Jeremy declares proudly, and Derek decides not to bust that bubble, despite knowing with complete certainty that they couldn't possibly have seen any such thing, as the house is in a valley deep in the woods.

 

“That sounds cool, guys,” Derek says, smiling indulgently at them, and then looks back up at Stiles, regret already twisting his gut.

 

“Hey, maybe you should come back some other time and have a go of your own. See for yourself?” Stiles suggests in a tone of voice that sounds full of promise, and Derek feels wobbly in the knees.

 

“Yeah, you should, Derek! It's so cool!”

 

Robbie grimaces at Jeremy's enthusiasm. “Was not. It was totally lame.”

 

“Nuh uh!”

 

“Yah huh!”

 

Derek groans, and sends Stiles one last apologetic smile. “Thanks for... you know, letting me hang out and... stuff. Maybe... maybe I'll come back?” he says haltingly, and Stiles beams at him.

 

“You'd better.”

 

The rest of the day is a haze, and even his mother's disgruntled face at having her three youngest children returned with chocolate literally all over their faces can't burst Derek's bubble.

 

* * *

 

Derek would like to say he has any kind of chill, but he so very much does not. So December third he's back, making a beeline for the ferris wheel, ignoring every cheerful elf and snowman trying to appeal to his Christmas spirit or whatever.

 

But when he gets to the ferris wheel, it's not Stiles at the controls. It's a tall, red-haired and freckled guy who smiles and nods and seems perfectly nice, but Derek hates him pretty much on sight. Because he's not _Stiles_. It takes an embarrassing length of time before it occurs to Derek to ask the guy if maybe he knows where Stiles is.

 

“Oh, he's fixing the merry-go-round,” the guy says, and then narrows his eyes. “Are you Derek?”

 

“Uh. Yeah?”

 

“Oh man,” the guy says. “Go find him and put him out of his misery, please.”

 

“Uhm. Okay,” Derek says, but the guy has already turned his back on Derek, busy guiding people in and out of the cars.

 

The merry-go-round is dark and quiet, and the small sign suspended across the entrance says “ _closed for repairs_ ”. Derek hovers in front of it, not sure where to go from there, but there's some clanging from somewhere around the center of the ride, and after a few moments of indecision, Derek gathers the courage to call out: “Uhh. Hello?”

 

There's a disturbingly loud clang followed by a muffled curse and then Stiles' head pops out from behind the center column. “Derek?! Oh my god, hey, hi. You came back,” he babbles, and rushes closer, wiping his hands on a rag. “I wasn't sure if- I thought maybe. Hi,” he says again, and his whole face crinkles with a delighted smile. “No siblings today?”

 

“No, they're in school.”

 

“Right,” Stiles says with an awkward laugh. “Right, cause they're six. Right.”

 

“Six and a quarter, actually. Robbie would like me to tell you that.”

 

“Ah, of course. Is Robbie short for Robert?” Stiles asks, and attempts to casually step over the rope across the entrance, only to fail and get his foot caught on it. He saves it by clinging to the nearest pole, and rights himself with his face practically boiling. “Ah, haha, that was smooth, oh my god, kill me now.”

 

“It's okay. I'm like that sometimes with... uh. Words. Conversation and stuff,” Derek says awkwardly, which is just case in point right there. “But uh, yeah. Robbie is short for Robert.”

 

“Okay, cool,” Stiles says, obviously jumping on the subject. “And the other one is...?”

 

“Jeremy.”

 

“Not Jerry?”

 

“Nope. He doesn't like it. Which is funny, because if you call Robbie Robert he thinks he's in trouble. Which... I guess is true sometimes.”

 

“Kids, man. Those are good names, though.”

 

Derek grins. “My parents would be happy to hear you say that. They're kinda running out of ideas.”

 

Stiles blinks. “You have more siblings?”

 

“Uh, yeah. Five.”

 

It's kind of amazing how Stiles' mouth drops open. “You mean, five total?”

 

“Nope. Six total. Laura, me, Cora, Jeremy, Robbie and Molly. And my mom has threatened us with more, though I think Molly is probably the last one.”

 

“Jeez. That's amazing. I'm an only child, I can barely even comprehend a family that huge.”

 

“You get used to it,” Derek says with a shrug, but suddenly gets the thought that maybe he should warn Stiles before The Hales descend on him with the sole purpose of humiliating Derek, because they definitely will as soon as they sniff out that Derek voluntarily went back to a place he massively dislikes to talk to a cute guy. “Uh, speaking of, though... if you're suddenly accosted in the street by a weirdly threatening or overly friendly stranger who seems to know you for no reason, it's probably one of my relatives. They all snoop, because they're terrible, and they love to ruin my life.”

 

Stiles laughs. “Tell me about it. Being the son of the sheriff means every tiny thing you do gets reported back to him. Literally everything. Next time I call him he'll be asking me who that nice boy is and when I'm taking him home for dinner.” He leans in conspiratorially. “There are eyes everywhere,” he whispers, and he's close and warm and his eyes are twinkling with mirth, and Derek feels like he's literally melting into a puddle.

 

“I'd love to,” he blurts before realizing it, and now it's his turn to feel his face heat up. “I mean, if you asked. I'd, uh... be open to that.”

 

There's a moment of crackling tension where Stiles just stares at him, eyes wide and mouth hanging slightly open, and despite his embarrassment Derek wants to kiss him so badly it's painful. “Wow, Stiles says quietly. “I'll keep that in mind.” He clears his throat and moves back a little, as if he's having to struggle for composure too. “But I wouldn't do that to you for a first date. My dad is definitely gonna clean his gun in front of you, and it can be scary, I'm not gonna lie.”

 

Something clicks in Derek's brain and he's suddenly connecting dots. “Wait... your father is Sheriff Stilinski? You live here in Beacon Hills?” He feels betrayed, frankly, that the universe somehow hid Stiles' existence from him for over two decades.

 

“Well, Beacon Valley now, but yeah. Grew up here.”

 

“How did I never see you? I would have remembered,” Derek insists, too caught up in the unfairness of it all to consider if maybe he's being a little forward.

 

Stiles doesn't seem to mind, though, smiling and squirming where he stands. “Well, I never saw you either, so... what school did you go to?”

 

“Harver Prep. And then Stoleman-Rove High.”

 

“Ah,” Stiles says, suddenly subdued. “The private schools.”

 

Derek usually doesn't even consider that his family is actually quite wealthy, which he's aware is a privilege in itself, and he wants to kick himself for not considering it might make him sound like a douche. “I didn't mean... I don't care that you went to public schools, Stiles,” he says, desperate to try and fix it somehow. “That doesn't matter to me. I think you're amazing,” he adds, without considering if he might be coming on too strong. But Stiles does crack a little smile before shaking his head.

 

“Nah, I'm not... I mean, I do okay, but-”

 

“No, you _are_. You made business for yourself. You _invented_ something! That _is_ amazing,” Derek insists, and Stiles looks at him like _he's_ something amazing.

 

“God, please go out with me,” Stiles blurts, and he's already starting to backpedal, but Derek cuts him off.

 

“Yes. Anytime you want. Anywhere you wanna go.”

 

Stiles starts bouncing rapidly on his heels like he simply can't keep his excitement in, and Derek is completely and utterly charmed. “Wow, really? That's... great. Awesome. Amazing. Do you have time now? No, wait, _I_ don't have time now, I gotta fix the thing. Fuck. Maybe Bill can... no, he's manning the sleigh. Dammit,” Stiles curses, looking increasingly distraught by every second.

 

“I could... hang out here? With you? Until you're done, uh... fixing the thing?”

 

“Really?” Stiles breathes, and then almost trips over the rope again. “Sweet, seriously, that's awesome, right this way, good sir!”

 

Derek ends up hanging out with Stiles in the empty merry-go-round for most of the afternoon. They talk and laugh, and it's _heaven_. It only gets better when Stiles is done, and takes Derek out of the damn village for some pizza. By the time Derek gets home long after dinner, he's floating on a cloud, and barely even hears the mocking of his siblings commenting on his love-struck face.

 

By December fifth, Stiles has survived a grocery store encounter with Laura and Cora, and by December tenth, Derek has been gently threatened by the sheriff. Which scares him more than he likes to admit, but still makes it less daunting to accept an invitation to dinner.

 

Despite meeting almost every day, sometimes just hanging out with Stiles as he's handling the controls of the rides, it's December fifteenth before Derek gets up the nerve to make a move. And because he's Derek, of course it can't possibly be smooth in any way.

 

He's hanging out with Stiles, sitting on a huge crate behind the ferris wheel while Stiles is taking a break, and they're just chatting as usual. Stiles looks tired, which makes sense considering he apparently doesn't take days off during December at all, and he's leaning on Derek's shoulder with his eyes closed, murmuring about curly fries. Derek can barely breathe from the closeness, and clenches his fists on his thighs again and again, watching the shadows cast by Stiles' lashes against his cheek. Even when exhausted he's so beautiful Derek can barely stand it, and it's been two weeks of being close and basking in his beauty, and Derek is quite simply losing it.

 

“Can I-” he blurts before he manages to stop himself, and when he realizes he doesn't have the faintest idea how to come back from it, he decides to just power on. “Would you mind if... I mean-”

 

Stiles raises his head slowly, and blinks sleepily at him.“Just ask, Derek, I'm pretty sure I'll be cool with whatever it is.”

 

“Can I kiss you?”

 

Stiles' whole face goes pink and then erupts in a massive smile, and Derek would love to just take it all in, but he doesn't get a chance before he has a lapful of Stiles, and then he's being kissed. _Amazingly_ so, and he grabs at Stiles' overshirt to pull him closer, closer, _closer_.

 

It feels like barely two seconds before Stiles pulls back with a wet sound, but considering how tender Derek's lips are, it was probably quite a while. “God, Derek, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to jump you like that, I just... I've wanted to do that for so long.”

 

“Me too,” Derek admits. “I wanted to kiss you that first day.”

 

“I wish you had,” Stiles sighs, and leans in for another quick peck. “Why did you wait two weeks? I would have been game literally from day one.”

 

“Why did _you_ wait two weeks?” Derek shoots back, because he can do that now. He's no longer afraid of saying the wrong thing or messing things up, because Stiles is obviously just as into this as Derek is. It's enough to make him feel giddy.

 

Stiles looks at him with fond eyes, and strokes his cheeks when gentle fingers. “Because, Derek Hale, you are a fucking delicate flower wrapped in beef, and I love that about you. I didn't wanna ruin anything.”

 

“Me neither,” Derek admits, but then frowns. “I'm not actually that fragile, you know.”

 

“Maybe not. But you're really fucking precious to me, and I kinda wanna stamp _handle with care_ onto your forehead. Because you deserve it, Derek.”

 

Derek has nothing to say to that, so he kisses Stiles some more instead.

 

December goes by in a flurry of kissing and holding hands and sharing meals, but not a lot more, because December is the busiest month of the year for Stiles, and Derek respects that. He tries and fails at working on his book, because literally all his free moments are spent thinking about Stiles, and he finally gives in to the temptation to start an entirely new story with a poorly disguised Stiles as the main character. Derek's aware he's probably never gonna finish it, because he'll never get down all the things he wants the world to know about Stiles. It's probably pathetic, but Derek honestly doesn't care, up to and including the point of being completely unaffected by his family's mocking, which is cause for some concern.

 

As if Derek voluntarily spending every other day of December in the goddamn Christmas Village hadn't already been tilting the globe on its axis.

 

By the twenty-fourth of December, Derek is ready to _vomit tinsel_ , but wherever Stiles goes, Derek goes too. And when Stiles asks if maybe he wants hang out for a few hours on Christmas Day, Derek says yes without hesitation. Any chance to get away from his family for a few hours during the holiday hell and his eternally overshadowed birthday is a blessing.

 

The Village is pretty dead on the twenty-fifth, but it's still open, and Derek is prepared to endure it for one more day. But when he finds Stiles, he's turned right around and guided back to the parking lot, and he goes without argument. Stiles drives them out of Beacon Hills towards Beacon Valley, and by the time they pull up at an apartment building, Derek has realized that Stiles is taking him home to his place, and he can barely contain his delight. Even if he has to endure whatever Christmas stuff Stiles will most likely want to do, since he made it clear that first day that he loves the holidays. Just getting to see where Stiles lives is a treat.

 

“Now, don't take this the wrong way,” Stiles says in the elevator. “I'm not gonna jump you or anything. Not that I don't want to, because holy shit I do, so very much. But this isn't about that,” he says as the doors open to a dim hallway, and they head towards number four. “But if you could maybe close your eyes, that'd be cool.”

  
“Okay?” Derek says, and closes his eyes in front of the door, trusting Stiles to guide him. He's pulled gently into the apartment, and steered around two corners.

  
“Hang on,” Stiles says, there's the sound of candles being lit. Derek really wouldn't mind if Stiles brought him here for sex, he's been thinking about it quite a lot lately too. “Okay. You can look.”

 

Derek prepares himself for yet more Christmas, but... there's nothing. Just a cozy apartment. A little messy, books crammed sloppily onto shelves, nerdy posters and figurines littering every surface, and it's wonderful, Derek loves it. But even better is the small table set for two, decked with streamers and glitter, as well as a small birthday cake with silly and wonderful number candles on it spelling out his twenty-three years. On one plate is a small present, and Stiles pulls out that chair with an expectant look.

 

Derek sits down, feeling cherished in a way he didn't even know he could, and Stiles presses a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Happy birthday, Derek.”

 

“Thank you. I thought you loved Christmas,” he says, unable to stop himself from asking.

  
“I do,” Stiles says with a nod as he sits down. “But it turns out having it crammed down your throat for like eight hours every day of December makes you disinclined to rush home and decorate. Just your luck, as it turns out,” he adds with a wink. “Now blow out your candles, birthday boy.”

 

Derek does. He blows out his candles, he opens his present, which turns out to be a book about the Trojan War that he already owns, which couldn't possibly matter less, and then they eat cake and make out on the couch.

 

It's the best birthday Derek has ever had.

 

End.

 

 


End file.
